


we couldn’t do otherwise

by crookedspoon



Series: Exchange Fics [70]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Birthday Party, Everyone Loves Dick Grayson, Hangover, M/M, Magical Birthday Gang Bangs, Morning After, Sex Pollen May Have Been Involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Kyle wakes up with a hangover. The night he remembers was wild.
Relationships: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Mentioned Dick Grayson/Various
Series: Exchange Fics [70]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/51139
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85
Collections: Exchanges After Dark Birthday Bash 2020, Jason Rare Pair Challenge





	we couldn’t do otherwise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsymptoticallyNotDoingFic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsymptoticallyNotDoingFic/gifts).



> Hey! Among other things, you requested "The Red Gay/The Blue Gay or The Green Gay" and "The Fandom Bicycle/Everyone All At Once."
> 
> The Red Gay/The Blue Gay is my OTP, so of course I wrote you The Red Gay/The Green Gay, with a side of The Blue Gay/Everyone. And I just realised that I may have let the wrong guys top. Whoops. I mean, it was a decision that I, [a certified Good Writer](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/190142794535/just-in-case-anyone-needed-to-see-my-credentials), made. Also, sorry it's not cute :(

Kyle is an artist. He appreciates the beauty of nature and everything in it.

There are lines, however, and this is where he draws them:

  1. Birds trilling their heart out at the crack of dawn.
  2. Being woken up at the crack of dawn.
  3. Blinding early dawn light making him aware of his blinding headache.
  4. Blinding headaches.
  5. The realization that mistakes must have been made.



Belatedly, Kyle notices the pun he's made – lines, drawing, _hah_ – and snorts. It turns out to be a mistake. You know, to pick up where he has surely left off the night before.

He groans. Seriously, what the hell did he have to drink last night? Kyle may be many things, but he's no lightweight, no matter what Guy has to say about it. Just because Guy can guzzle beer like it's grape soda (at this point, his stupid _liver_ must be a construct made out of Will) and measures everyone to his freakish self, doesn't mean Kyle can't hold his liquor. 

He just regrets indulging in it every damn time. Hangovers just aren't worth it.

At some point he'll have to get up, he knows that, but for now he's content to wallow in self-pity like a proper adult.

He massages his temples, trying to shut out the rosy light of the dawn that has well and truly spilled through the windows and stretched across the floor. Shadows are slanting and dissolving, and the more they do, the more Kyle's eyes are stinging. But he can't help but survey the aftermath of what was arguably the biggest party of the year.

It's no worse than you'd expect – drinks spilled on the settees, crumpled forms strewn about, broken glass glittering in rainbow colors, prismatic, and it reminds him of the time he'd been a White Lantern and master of the emotional spectrum. 

Now he's back to being Green full-time, not to mention a little green around the gills some of the time. 

As he sweeps his gaze across the room, it inevitably lands on the brightest spot of color: a red hoodie adorning the shoulders of the Red Hood.

Jason's not wearing the helmet that gives him the name (nor is he wearing anything beneath the hoodie), but he has the hood thrown over his head and shadowing his face. He's dozing against the veranda window, perfectly framed, a composition Kyle couldn't have posed better himself.

Kyle doesn't think. He just acts on the breathless panic that overcomes him when he doesn't have his utensils ready and fears that by turning away from a scene as perfect as this, he will destroy it.

All he finds in short order is:

  1. a paper napkin that he unfolds into a bigger yet thinner square, and
  2. a bleeding ballpoint pen that he lifted from a gas station on the way over.



He must have sat on the pen because it's cracked now, but whatever. As long as it helps him translate what he sees onto the page and gives his hands something to do, he's fine. It's nowhere near as satisfying as a graphite pencil on a bristol board, but it'll do. All he needs is the distraction from his headache, and if an excuse to stare at Jason's impressive pecs presents itself, he'll take it, no second thoughts.

Kyle licks his lips. His mouth is dry. His fingers are leaving damp prints on the napkin as they're flattening to the cutting board he's balancing on his knees. He tells himself it's the nausea that has him sweating, not the gray waistline of the boxer briefs that are peeking out from beneath the artfully peeled-open fly that Jason apparently never bothered to do up again.

The night is coming back to him in snapshots and impressions. Music that pulsed through his body, laughter that pierced his ear drums, dancing that rubbed him up against the other dancers. 

And there were a _lot._

No surprise there. When Nightwing – the original Robin, Batman's sidekick and one of the OG Teen Titans – throws a party, nobody wants to miss it. Not because the parties are so legendary, but because _he_ is. The number of superhero teams he's worked with over the years – hell, _founded_ even – most likely surpasses the number of superhero teams Kyle knows about in the first place. 

The size of the crowd he drew certainly reflects that. Dick is that damn popular.

Everyone was there. Even some people who probably shouldn't have been there ( _looking at you, Deathstroke_ ). Even some people who shouldn't _be,_ but somehow are. And perhaps even some who didn't _want_ to be there, but were nonetheless.

The sheer elemental force of these superheroes (and supervillains) coming together in this holiday retreat at Happy Harbor was stunningly magnetic. The air was crackling with electricity, buzzing with static, and shimmering with heat. Kyle didn't have to whip out a Geiger counter to know the readings would be off the charts.

Yet the tensions that should have arisen from that much raw power concentrated in such a tiny space were curiously absent as if by magic. No, not "as if." It most likely _was_ magic. Kyle is pretty sure he saw Doctor Fate, one of the Lords of Order, floating about, and he _definitely_ saw Zatanna make out with Dick at one point. Or maybe it was Donna? Although, if it had been Donna, he would have felt weird about that, right? 

No, it was definitely Donna. _And_ Zatanna. But instead of feeling weird or even jealous about that, the only emotional response he registered was arousal.

He felt a strange pull toward them, toward all of them, everyone around him, but toward Dick in particular. He didn't think it so strange at the time. Dick was the birthday boy after all. Everyone wanted to be around him, wanted to taste him, make him feel good.

And Dick thrived on the attention. He was equally as giving as he was welcoming, and Kyle wanted in on that.

Thinking back on it now, Kyle is almost certain some kind of Tamaranean love potion had been mixed into the punch, or dispersed through the vents. He could explain his sudden and overpowering attraction to Dick on something natural, but the only explanation for the lack of inhibition he displayed is a chemical agent.

It started with body shots and worked its way to mouths near nether regions almost in an instant. The heat was intense. Kyle was sweating from every pore amidst the sea of people that were swarming around Dick. So it only seemed like the logical course of action when Dick's clothes came off. They parted from him like water, and Dick continued kissing whoever was closest to him as if nothing at all had happened, as if he weren't standing stark-naked among a roomful of people who all wanted a piece of him.

Kyle recognized the two kneeling in front of and behind Dick to pleasure him orally. Garth and Wally were both founding members of the Teen Titans alongside Dick and Donna, so no one complained that they were the first to get a taste of Dick.

Someone pinched Dick's nipples and Dick drew back from whoever he was kissing to moan in ecstasy. He was beautiful like this, so completely at the loving mercy of everyone surrounding him. 

Soon, Dick was spread out among them like a centerfold, and used just the same. Genitals were rubbed against him or thrust in his face, and Dick fellated them gladly. Kyle's own cock was pulsing with need. Fire erupted across his skin whenever someone so much as brushed against him

All the while, hands continued to reach out to touch Dick, stroke him, steer him this way or that, to get the gift of his attention. But even if his hazy eyes shifted towards the owner of those hands and he smiled around the cock in his mouth like he knew their desire and wanted to grant it – there was only so much of Dick to go around. 

Not that it seemed to matter much. Yes, Dick seemed to be the center of their universe (which should have struck Kyle as a ridiculous thought: naturally, as a Green Lantern, he's been to the center of the known universe. It's where their headquarters are. And yet, even with his Ring guiding him, he's never felt a pull toward it as strong as this) and getting to fuck him the highest goal in life, but no one was getting into a fight over it. Everyone just got their hands on whatever they could.

Kyle was no exception. He had fingers clutching his shoulders, cupping his ass, and pinching him through his clothes. He found his own fingers doing the same. There was a natural rhythm to this, a tug and grind, and he succumbed to it, rolling his hips against the colleagues and strangers around him and kissing the nape in front of him.

"Hey Rayner," the guy it belonged to said in sultry tones, angling his head so that his lips brushed against Kyle's. "That's pretty forward of you."

"Jason!" Kyle would have liked to say his tone conveyed mild alarm, but instead it came out more as a moan. 

Jason's hand squeezed down on his through the denim and the zipper of his jeans – because Kyle's hands was stuffed inside Jason's pants, and when the hell did that happen? Jason rocked back against him, almost fully hard, and he used Kyle's hand to jerk off leisurely to the low, thrumming pulse of the music.

"Wanna get out of here?" Jason asked.

"Don't you want to—" Kyle nodded toward Dick. The idea of _not_ wanting him seemed entirely foreign to him.

Jason laughed. "I don't like to share."

Dick's body was already glistening with sweat, saliva, and semen, and covered in the odd spurt of ink and motor oil. He was gorgeous, even like that. Or perhaps more so, because of it. What a shame it would be not to participate...

But Jason was already dragging him away, and somehow they managed to extricate themselves from the writhing mass of bodies. Jason knew how to call the shots. He'd demonstrated that time and again when he, Kyle, and Donna were off saving the universe together.

But he also knew how to follow.

"Tell me if it's not more fun to have someone all to yourself," Jason said and sank to his knees.

Kyle pretty much forgot his name after that. Jason knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it well. Even when he was the one being done _to._ Getting to fuck Jason's face was one of the best things to happen to Kyle in recent years.

"What're you drawing?" a sleep-rough voice asks.

Kyle jumps and instinctively shifts the cutting board so that it hides his crotch from view. He'd been so engrossed in his memories that he hadn't even noticed the shadow falling over him.

"Rorschach tests," Jason says and tosses the cutting board and the napkin aside. Kyle's sketch is ruined thanks to his pen spilling onto the napkin, but it's just as well. That way he doesn't have to explain himself. "Fun. There some room on your lap for me?"

He sinks down onto it without waiting for an answer. Kyle yelps. He wasn't ready for that. His _cock_ wasn't ready for that. Or maybe too ready. Thing is, Jason is big. Bigger than any of the Earth Lanterns Kyle frequently works with. Even Guy is dwarfed next to him. Or maybe that's just Kyle's impression because Guy has certainly never sat on his lap like this, bearing down on his shamefully erect cock while keeping his weight off Kyle's thighs at the same time. Kyle can't help himself from grabbing Jason’s ass and pulling him closer.

Kyle doesn't know what it is about these Bats that makes them magically irresistible – or maybe that's just Kyle, who goes for sweet assholes like Jason. He may be sporting a cocky grin as he towers over Kyle, but he's not that bad. They wouldn't have saved the universe together if Jason didn't fundamentally care.

It helps that he kisses with all the confidence of someone who knows they have you in the palm of their hand, even if it's Kyle's hands that are firmly palming Jason's backside.

"What do you say we find ourselves a quiet place where I can ride you into oblivion?" Jason asks and even if the question weren't accompanied by a roll of his hips, Kyle would have moaned out loud. "Didn't really get the chance to return the favor for you doing all the work last night."

"The pleasure was all mine." Or he thought it had been. Jason had felt insanely good and Kyle rutted into him with abandon. Only when he came down later, did he notice he never actively attended to Jason's needs, and man, that felt bad. Kyle likes to think of himself as more considerate than that. So maybe Jason's just being polite about wanting to get off this time. "But I'm not one to pass up such a generous offer."

Seriously, anyone who'd spurn Jason Todd must not be in their right mind, and not only because Jason is one handsome fucker. Or maybe they're just not into getting off. (Also, a very small part of Kyle is worried he'd get riddled with bullets if he refused. Not that he _actually_ believes that Jason would shoot him for saying no, but you can never be sure. Good thing he has no reason to find out.)

"Good." Jason grins, all teeth. "You won't regret it. I'll make sure of that."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Prothalamion" by Michael Ryan.


End file.
